


The Fight Still Lingers

by Vialana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Castiel/Dean Winchester - Freeform, Gen, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27811402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vialana/pseuds/Vialana
Summary: Heaven is not what it seems. So of course it isn’t Sam who meets Dean at the bridge: it’s Amara.
Relationships: Amara & Dean Winchester
Kudos: 7





	The Fight Still Lingers

**Author's Note:**

> For all that I’ve been an avid fan for 15 years, and devoured many fanworks, I’ve never actually made any for SPN. So, of course, the finale pissed me off enough to inspire me to write. I'm a little surprised by what I wanted to write about, but I honestly did expect Amara to play a bigger part in everything than she did. So, team-up!
> 
> This fic is complete in of itself, but I may use it as a springboard for other post-canon fix-it works. It depends on my real-life responsibilities.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

Heaven hasn’t been anything like Dean expected. So, when Dean turns to give his brother a hug after a death and lifetime separated, a tiny part of him isn’t surprised to see that it isn’t his brother standing by the impala. It’s Amara.

She is as otherworldly and imposing as ever and her smile is twisted with an unsettlingly familiar sadness.

“I’m sorry.”

Dean doesn’t know why she’s apologising to him; last time they saw each other, he lied to her and basically convinced her to kill herself. _Dean_ should be the one grovelling for forgiveness.

“He’s not coming,” she continues.

“Bullshit,” he says, rage at the injustice of Sam being denied the peace of heaven finally giving him enough of a boost to break through the shock and confusion to speak. “No one deserves this more than him.”

“No one deserves this Dean. Not your brother, not me, and especially not you.”

What did she mean? Wasn’t this the goal? The end to a fulfilling life? Heaven? Peace? Rest?

But the pieces start adding up in his mind. The emptiness and quiet of the landscape, eerie and unsettling instead of beautiful and peaceful. Sure, maybe Jack hasn’t got around to finishing all the minor details yet, but even Bobby mentioned other people that should have been around. They’d met at the Roadhouse. Where were Ellen and Jo? Ash? Hell, why hadn’t his parents been there to meet him if they lived so close now? Where _was_ Jack? Sure, he said he was hands-off, but obviously heaven didn’t count. Didn’t he want to see Dean again? Was he really so busy he couldn’t spare a minute to say hi? And what about what Bobby let slip about––

Dean opens his mouth to ask, but no words come out. He tries to shout, straining his throat so much that – were he still alive – he should have burst a blood vessel.

Amara’s gaze is achingly heavy as she watches his struggle.

“I’m so sorry Dean,” she says again. “This isn’t heaven. And you didn’t beat my brother. This is just an illusion he’s using to keep you contained and docile.”

He wants to deny it, keeps trying to yell at her, tell her she’s wrong, but can only manage to shake his head. She has to be lying. They’d won, they were free – they’d beat god himself and got to live their lives they way they wanted to. He was not a helpless plaything to be tossed around by the whims of cosmic powers anymore.

But the words won’t emerge from his lips. An invisible hand tightens against his throat, choking him as he tries to assert his free will. He can hear the echo of Chuck’s laughter as he desperately fights to speak.

Dean can only fall to his knees in silence.

Dean drives; he’s still capable of doing that. Amara sits shotgun. It’s weird, but less weird than he expected. He’s used to having someone at his side. It hurts that it’s not Sam with his ridiculous hair blowing into his face all the time and bitching about the music on the radio, but it’s better than being alone.

Dean surprises himself by speaking. “I am sorry for what I did to you.” Guess he’s still able to talk, as long as the topic of conversation has nothing directly to do with whatever the fuck Chuck did to him.

Amara looks over at him and smiles. “I forgive you.”

Dean swallows and refuses to take his eyes off the road. “Why?”

“I understood why you did it. You were scared and desperate and my brother made you feel like you had no choice but to betray and kill those you cared about to ensure your freedom.”

It sounds even worse said aloud by one of the people he betrayed and killed.

As through sensing his spiralling thoughts – and she probably can – Amara reaches over to brush her hand gently against his arm, just above the elbow. “I’m not angry or upset. I mean it when I say I forgive you and I understand. I was scared too, when I realised your intentions, but even more so when I realised how deftly my brother had driven you to such extremes. When I realised he had done the same to me.”

“Why did you do it?” Dean asks, unaware of how desperately he wanted to know until the question bursts out. “Why did you join with him?”

Amara pushes back into the seat as though the firmness of the upholstery will lend her strength. “He’s my brother and I love him. I was scared to be without him. And I suppose I was scared to think about what I was capable of doing if he was capable of doing what he did to you.” She looks over at him, eyes wide and bare to the centre of her being. “You know what I am Dean, better than anyone in existence.”

Dean considers this for a long moment.

“I do know you,” he finally says, turning his gaze – but not his attention – back to the road. “And I believe you when you say you forgive me. So, I can’t believe that you’re capable of doing anything like––” his voice cuts off with a squeak. Dean growls in frustration and finishes his thought by gesturing vaguely around at everything.

She laughs; it’s hollow and dark. “Is this not what you and I schemed to do to my brother?”

“No,” Dean is able to say. “You’re not cruel – malicious – not like him. You care. I know you care. And you try. You try to understand, you try to see things from other perspectives. You wouldn’t want this for anyone. Chuck, he _revels_ in it.”

Dean is the one to reach out to Amara this time: hand open, palm up. Hesitantly, Amara slides her own hand into his and lets him offer comfort with his firm grasp.

“You care, Amara. Not just about yourself, and that … that means everything.”

She squeezes his hand. “You might have had a little to do with that.”

_Because of you, I cared._

Dean pulls his hand back, scratching at the back of his neck as though embarrassed. “Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad. And I’m sorry.”

“Dean, I’ve already forgiven you.”

“Not about that. About what Chuck did to you. I’m sorry he locked you up again.”

Amara sighs. “My brother is very convincing. He promised me the one thing I ever wanted then ensured that I would never have it.”

_The one thing I want is something I know I can’t have._

Dean clears his throat, but his voice is still scratchy as he asks, “What is it?”

“Balance. True balance. Light and dark. Creation and destruction. Working together. Existence as it was meant to be.”

“Huh.” Dean had never considered it that way, not really. Darkness, destruction: they were names, ideas, that the human mind associated with evil and wrongness. But Dean knew better – had always known better. He’d lived on the edges of darkness his whole life; he’d destroyed and killed and ended many lives (his own included at times), but he’d never truly considered himself evil. Wrong, sometimes, but he’d also had to make hard and difficult choices that served a long term or bigger picture goal that others might have considered wrong in the moment. Darkness was far more multi-faceted than right or wrong. As was light for that matter.

“You always did understand me, Dean.” Amara is smiling, gentle and content. She is more beautiful than Dean has ever seen her. He wants her to keep smiling.

“I don’t regret it, you know. Freeing you. Sure, some of the circumstances before and after kind of sucked, but I’m glad you’re free. I’m glad I know you.”

“Flirt.” She dismantles the heavy atmosphere and pushes at his shoulder. Dean laughs.

He drives in silence for a time, watching the unchanging empty scenery half-heartedly as he plans what to say. If he can even say it.

“It won’t work,” Amara interrupts before he can pose the question.

“We have to try.”

“My brother is all powerful. Nothing is beyond his control. It won’t work.”

_You asked what about all this is real. We are._

Dean smiles. “I know a guy.”

Amara shakes her head. “Why? Why do you do this, knowing you can’t possibly win? How can you still have hope?”

“Because you were right. I don’t deserve this. And you don’t either. And until I’m actually dead and my ashes scattered to the ends of existence, I will keep trying.” He’s a little surprised that he was able to say everything he wanted, but he’s glad. Amara needed to hear it and Dean needed to say it.

Amara sits back, still staring, but hopeful now rather than resigned. “You’re a good man, Dean Winchester. And you deserve to get what you want.”

_You're the most caring man on Earth._

_You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know._

_I love you._

Dean smiles. “Yeah.” Maybe he can start to believe it. “Let’s get to work.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can also find me on tumblr: [ladyvialana](https://ladyvialana.tumblr.com/)


End file.
